Joint Documents ... for the Year ..., Part 1

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Page 122 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew...
Page 122 - There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face ; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; Full well the busy whisper circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
Page 327 - I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for not without dust and heat.
Page 122 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault...
Page 246 - The babe by its mother Lies bathed in joy, Glide its hours uncounted, The sun is its toy; Shines the peace of all being Without cloud in its eyes, And the sum of the world In soft miniature lies.
Page 122 - For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length, and thundering sound, Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around, And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew.
Page 142 - The areas of two triangles which have an angle of the one equal to an angle of the other are to each other as the products of the sides including the equal angles.
Page 134 - And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers. The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace.
Page 134 - Ah! Then, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw, and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile Amid a world how different from this!
Page 134 - Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...

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